


will you take me home?

by padfootvioletstilinski



Category: The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types, The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: Angst, Grief/Mourning, Little bit of Fluff, M/M, Post-The Death Cure, The Death Cure Spoilers, Thomas and Minho friendship, i am really sad and bitter, tdc movie spoilers, that's the basis of this, this was self indulgent, you guys know whose death don't play with me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-05
Updated: 2018-02-05
Packaged: 2019-03-14 09:35:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13587315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/padfootvioletstilinski/pseuds/padfootvioletstilinski
Summary: Thomas didn’t want to remember him like that, he wants to remember him as he was, his skin shining in the daylight, his face so young and happy, his hair flying in the wind and his smile.Thomas and Minho deal with the aftermath, and Newt's body is safe.





	will you take me home?

 

When Thomas wakes up, he feels like he can’t breathe. His lungs work hard, trying to pull in as much oxygen as possible, as if they are being deprived, almost too much to the point where he retches. There is an ache on his right side, he looks down, pulling up a surprisingly clean jersey, and sees the bandages.

Oh.

He had been shot. So if that had been real, then.

Newt was gone.

And so was Teresa.

He gasps again, his throat closing up as tears threatened to fall.

He thinks about the breath leaving Newt’s body, his face relaxing for the first time. His eyes, black and open. His face, as a Crank, viscous. Thomas didn’t want to remember him like that, he wants to remember him as he was, his skin shining in the daylight, his face so young and happy, his hair flying in the wind and his smile.

He doesn’t want to remember Teresa falling either, he doesn’t want to remember her betrayal, whether she was on his side or not. Which was something he never knew until it was too late.

He hears a scrambled noise and realises that it’s from him.

He could have saved him, but he was too fucking late.

And all he can see is blood on his hands, Newt’s blood. He felt his body crushing him, or was he crushing Newt, he wasn’t sure anymore. And then that fatal breath when the knife entered Newt’s body. Thomas wasn’t sure if it was Newt who had turned it on himself, or if he was the one to push it deep into his chest.

He might as well have.

 

* * *

 

 

 

When he finally steps out of the tent he has to blink a few times, the sun relentlessly bright, he can smell the salt in the air. Thomas gasps softly to himself.

He could never remember being on a beach, he wouldn’t be surprised if it was his first time. After the Scorch he thought had had enough of sand to last a lifetime but this was different. Feeling the grains slip through his fingers, the sand a soft beige. A horizon that stretches far and wide, crowned with rolling green mountains. The sea an astonishing blue as it tumbles against the sea-breeze. It was serene, almost heavenly, the sun hitting the sea and making it glisten like diamonds. He wonders if he had died after he had been shot and if he had, he didn’t think it would be too much of a bad thing.

That’s when he saw the boat, and if the boat was here then-

He starts walking, and that’s when it starts getting louder in the distance. He can hear the hustle of activity. It reminded him of when he first came out of the box, into the Glade.

There were kids, everywhere, more than he thought there would be. More than he thought they had saved. They were happy, he could see it on their faces as they looked at him stumbling by, some wore looks of confusion and he realised how odd he must look right now.

He could see huts, littered along the shore, with green allotments. It was the beginning of a small community. That’s when he saw Minho, just harmlessly chopping wood. Seeing him made Thomas stop in his tracks. He was alive, and he looked so tired, but so well. He was practically glowing.

Maybe Thomas should leave, rather than taint this place, just like he had destroyed the Glade in just three days. What would be the record for this time? Just as he is about to turn around Minho sees him and leaps up, Thomas wants to tell him to slow down, he could still be hurt, but no one could control the runner in Minho.

Thomas is rooted where he is, and Minho is in front of him, quite a few inches away, as if hesitant to reach for him. Thomas thought he was scared of him and has to swallow a lump in his throat again. Then he saw Frypan next to Minho grinning, and Brenda and Jorge and Vince, his small family, not all of them, but still his family. They are looking at him tentatively, as if waiting for something, which makes Thomas realise that they were waiting for him. He moves quickly into Minho’s arms, and buries his face in his shoulder. He feels Minho’s arms wrap around him tightly, pressing on his wound, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

“It’s good to see you, Shank.” Minho’s voice is bright yet tired in his ear.

Thomas chuckles wetly, tears falling once again on to Minho’s shoulder, who must have been able to feel them because his grip became tight once again.

“Its going to be okay Thomas, I promise.”

When he felt Minho press a small kiss into his hair, Thomas didn’t hesitate in believing him.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

It was called the Safe Haven according to Vince, he had been out a few days, not a lot had been missed but it was enough for them to make a start. Thomas had lost a lot of blood, and had needed a lot of stitches.

“You kept calling for him in your sleep.” Minho reveals, sat next to Thomas, watching the flames of the bonfire dance. Thomas looks up at him and watches as he swallows.

“I do it too.” Minho continues.

Thomas looks away from him, like a coward, and rubs his face, as if that will take away the memory of Newt dying in his arms.

“I keep seeing it,” he says slowly, he can feel Minho’s eyes on him.

“I keep seeing the knife go into his chest and his face, it goes slack, Minho. He looks, _relieved,_ he kept saying ‘Kill me Tommy’ he kept saying ‘Please’-“

“Yeah, you could never say no to him could you, you shank.” Minho chuckles weakly.

Thomas looks at him, and then laughs weakly, “How did you know?”

Minho blinks at him, “You shanks weren’t very subtle. Always stealing secret glances and holding hands-“

Thomas shoves him, hard, but he only rocks in his seat as he laughs, “We didn’t hold hands, you twat.”

“You practically did, I swear to god you guys were eye-fucking every five minutes, I was almost scared to be alone in a room with you too. I don’t know how you had the time for that.”

Thomas looks to the ground, “Yeah, we obviously didn’t.”

Minho sighs, “Not what I meant you Shank.”

Thomas turns his hands over. And he thinks about Newt’s smile, his talent at making people laugh in the worst of times, and his eyes, his fucking eyes.

“Minho?” He croaks.

“Thomas?”

“How are we supposed to live without him? All of this time, I loved him. So fucking much that it feels like he has taken a piece of me with him, you know, like I can’t even breathe without it. How am I supposed to live without seeing him every day, seeing his smile or his frown? Seeing the way he leant against something and looked down at me when he knew I was going to do something stupid. How he knew how to get me to calm down or shut me up, how he called me out on my crap. How am I supposed to live when I have a hole in my life that no one else can fill but him? When I look at something I turn around to tell Newt about and every time I look over my shoulder and see that he isn’t there I think my heart breaks even more. I loved him. _I love him._ And I never even told him and he never even knew and I didn’t want him to die thinking he wasn’t loved Minho, and I don’t want to think about his body still there, all alone, because I was too selfish and scared to take it with me. You know what really hurts? Is that in all that time, I could have saved him, I could of given myself to WICKED and I could of gotten a cure and saved him. But I was so focused on not being used, on this fucking tirade against WICKED that I lost one of the reasons that made it all worth it. And it’s so fucked up and I don’t know what to do-“

Thomas presses his face into his knees, as he cries. He cries so hard he loses his breath in his struggle.

He feels Minho’s arm pull him into him and hold him. Thomas stays in his position but he leans into Minho’s warmth. He doesn’t know how long it takes him to stop crying, or how long Minho holds him but no looks at them strangely, gloatingly, he just wants to stay like this. There is so much more he feels like he wants to say to him, but it’s impossible to articulate how he feels completely. But then he feels Minho press another kiss into his hair and he lets out a breath. He doesn’t need to just yet.

“First off,” Minho coughs, as if swallowing a lump in his throat. “Newt knew you shank.”

Thomas blinks, “What?”

“Of course he knew you loved him, maybe not in the way you think, but he knew you loved him in a shape and form and sometimes that is enough. And we loved him too. He didn’t die not knowing we didn’t love him Thomas. He knew.”

Thomas didn’t answer him, he stays locked in his position and feels Minho pull him closer.

“I was in the maze.”

That, makes Thomas’s heart stop, he leans away from Minho and his arm falls from his shoulder, Minho pulls his legs up and wraps his arms around them, as if trying to make himself small.

Minho has always been the strongest, not just physically, but mentally, he wasn’t like Thomas who made rash decisions and had his heart on his sleeve. He was strategic, the shoulder to cry on, the one who was so put together. He never found out what they did to him in there.

“Well, it wasn’t a maze, it was just in my mind, but Thomas, being in there, was my worst nightmare. I was trapped again, all that work after three years, wasted. The glade was dead, we had worked hard to make it habitable, to make it home, but it was dead. There was so much smoke, everywhere, the grass, the trees, it was a shell of what it used to be. I thought I saw Chuck you know, and Alby. But no matter how hard I yelled, no one could hear me, apart from those fuckers out there who stuck their needles into me whenever they liked. No matter how hard I fought. And then it gets worse, I saw Grievers. So many of them, no matter where I ran they would grab me and toss me around and use their talons to cut into my skin and they kept hurting me and they wouldn’t stop-“

Thomas quickly rubs the tears from his eyes and grabs Minho’s face, he turns him to look at him, cradling his face in his hands.

He looks broken.

“Have you ever felt like you weren’t in control of your own body?”

Thomas shook his head, no.

“It’s not great, your brain is screaming at you, ‘what are you doing, fucking do something.’ But then they force your arms to cramp up, they force you into the air and to do whatever _they_ want. And you can’t do anything about it. I wanted to die, I thought you had given up on me, you and Newt and Fry. I thought you left me to die.”

Thomas shakes his head vigorously, “No! We wouldn’t. We were just so slow and I so sorry you went through that Minho.”

He clutches Minho to him as he crumbles, he presses Minho’s’ face into his shoulder Minho’s face and wraps his arms around him so tightly. Minho’s arms were slow, but they wrapped around him.

He felt Minho shaking, never in all the time had had known him, had he seen Minho cry.

“I’m here. You’re going to be alright man. I wasn’t supposed to let you end up like that. I promised you I wouldn’t and I broke it, I’m so sorry.”

“Thomas, don’t be sorry, you found me, that’s all that matters.”

 

* * *

 

 

 

The find themselves walking on the beach, at night. The waves were the only things they could hear. The sand soft under Thomas’s feet, Newt’s letter locked in his locket and close to Thomas’s heart.

“Thomas?”

Thomas jumped slightly at the disturbed silence.

“We found Newt’s body.”

Thomas breath stopped, he begins scratching at his palms.

“We couldn’t leave it there.”

He stops in his tracks, he doesn’t know where to look. Newt was here? With them?

“I thought-I thought I left him-“

“I couldn’t, he was my best friend for years, I couldn’t leave him there, we needed a chance to say goodbye. We thought we would wait for you to wake up before we gave him a burial.”

“A proper send off.”

“Just the way he would like it. Some of Fry’s stew.”

“Some of Gally’s concoction. Even though it tastes like Klunk.”

“It’s weird to hear you say Glader stuff, it sounds weird coming out of your mouth.”

Thomas laughs weakly. Then the thought of Newt’s body here on this island, the thought of seeing him with the veins crawling up his face, his lips crusted with black tar, his eyes bloodshot and red.

“He didn’t want us to remember him like that.”

“And we won’t, he will always be Newt to us, but at least he’s with us, where he belongs. At peace.”

Thomas nods. He remembers the first time he ever saw Newt, grinning down on him when he tumbled out of the box and onto the ground. He remembers their first conversation, on the log by the fireside. The fire lighting up Newt’s face like a torch, one of the brightest things in Thomas’s life. He remembers the way he would say his name, the way his lips mouthed the words “Tom, Tommy.” Thomas never wanted anyone else to say his name like he did. Every fleeting touch, every glance, every moment, every smile, sealed into his life forever, something that could never be changed.

He knows there is going to be a time when he looks over and tries to tell Newt something, and he won’t be there. He knows there is going to be a time when he wakes up in a state of illusion and hope and then he will remember. He knows that the nightmares and guilt will be endless. He knows there is going to be a time when he forgets what his voice sounds like, maybe what he looks like and how his eyes shine in the sun and how loud his laugh is.

But those heartbreaks will come and go. So, right now, he just wants to hold the hand of the boy he loves and tell him they will be okay, that he will be okay, and to tell him goodbye.

“Can you take me to him?”

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> This is my way of dealing with the ending of The Death Cure, have a piece of my mourning, any feedback, leave below please.


End file.
